The Dream Team
by seleneswan
Summary: We're back, bitches. —The Four Hokages; from ch. 619.
1. i

**The Dream Team  
**We're back, bitches.

.

.

.

* * *

Hashirama leered at himself in the mirror, adjusting his clothing. "Man, I look great. I'm in my prime all over again, and besides this strange inversion of eye coloring, I'm smokin'. I'm a catch." He paused, considering. "Hey, Tobirama, can you fix your jutsu so I don't look like a demon in the eyes department?" he asked, turning around to gesture to his face.

Tobirama didn't appear to hear him, staring out the window of the Hokage tower, musing. "This place has gone to rot."

Sarutobi frowned. "It's not _that_ bad. The buildings are all different though…and the women's bath house appears to have gained a roof," he commented forlornly. "You know, I used to take breaks by sitting on the roof and just watching them soak from above. Anko had the best ti—"

Minato looked at him incredulously. "Dude. You have a _wife._"

Sarutobi's eyes sparkled, then. "Ah, she was a beauty. But I'm not blind, man. I am a connoisseur of the female species. For example, Tsunade is the most curv—"

"_THAT'S MY GRANDDAUGHTER._" Hashirama turned around, a decidedly horrified look on his face.

There was a pregnant pause. "This _place," _Tobirama said, then, pointedly staring at Sarutobi, a disparaging look plastered on, "has gone to _rot_."

* * *

.

.

.

**notes**: THIS IS FOR LES AND OUR TWO IN THE MORNING/FOUR IN THE MORNING (BECAUSE TIME DIFFERENCES) CONVERSATIONS. ALSO TO KAGESHIP AND BROSHIP AND TO BITCHY!TOBIRAMA. also hashirama because he's the best omg.

basically, this is going to be a drabble collection of undead moments in konoha. stems off of chapter 619. we'll see how this goes. **review?**


	2. ii

**The Dream Team  
**We're back, bitches.

.

.

.

* * *

"This milk expired _months ago_," Minato said, aghast, as he rummaged around in the mostly empty fridge. "How is it that he hasn't caught some incurab—"

Hashirama bounced on his feet. "No time for that now. We can ruminate later, Namikaze. Quick—put these on."

A bundle of cloth was shoved under his nose, and Minato squinted, straightening up, closing the fridge door as he did. "…it's _orange_," he said, exasperated. "Kushina would be so proud," he muttered, rubbing his face tiredly, remembering his wife's penchant for bright colors. "This is the ugliest thing—"

"Yeah, and you're going to wear it. It should fit you—you are his dad, after all."

Sarutobi snorted. "It would probably be easier to hunt around this place for money than to go through all of this…"

Minato looked up, instantly wary, as he slid his arms in to the sleeves of the jacket with great caution. "…wait. Hashirama said we were—"

"IT'S YOUR TIME TO SHINE, BLONDIE. GO."

And abruptly, Minato was shoved out the door and into the sunlight.

* * *

.

.

.

**notes**: still for les. forever for les. also for nicole; be happy, dear, and I love you.

**notes two**: so there's this recurring pattern that tends to happen with stories that are not sufficiently "long enough" for the holier-than-thou readers, so I'd like to get a few things straight right now: 1) this is a _drabble_ series, if it wasn't blatantly obvious. they're _supposed_ to be short. if you want long fic, you can leave and find it elsewhere. nobody's stopping you. 2) no, I _won't_ put them together in the same chapter because what kind of sense would that even make when they're _unrelated. _and 3) if you want to say something, you can say it to me without hiding beyond anonymity. grow a pair and some dignity.

that being said, I do love the majority of you who are kind and encouraging. you're all wonderful. thank you for reading. (:

**review?**


	3. iii

**The Dream Team  
**We're back, bitches.

.

.

.

* * *

It was exactly ten minutes after Minato had exposed himself (not like that—you _nasty_) to the general public wearing nothing but his son's heinously bright attire and set of small, circular sunglasses to cover up his obviously not human eyes.

So far people had done a few double takes, but nothing too serious had happened as of yet. The old lady across the street who had been diligently watering her potted plants had been quite insistent on kissing his cheek for some unknown favor his son had done for her.

A small part of him was incredibly proud. For all the hate and disdain he had expected the village to give to his son as the demon-carrier, there was none to show for it. Only cheerful smiles and confused looks—although he attributed the latter to the fact that he looked a year or twenty older than Naruto.

And now here he stood, awkwardly slightly too tall for the pants, and leaning against the ramen counter that he hadn't seen in years. "Hey, uh. Could I get four miso ramen to go?"

The man behind the counter blinked. "…_Naruto?_ What's _wrong _with you?"

Minato started to sweat. "What…do you mean?" he tried to pull off the casual tone, rubbing the back of his head, but his voice pitched a little too high amidst the pressure of his identity theft.

"You seem so…mellow today. And my goodness, you've grown a lot since the last time I saw you…"

"I…yeah. Battle worn?" he squeaked out, feeling thoroughly panicked. His palms were moist, sliding on the edge of the counter he was gripping tightly.

.

It was only seconds later that Tobirama, who had been mysteriously absent, meandered up the stairs with bags of groceries, his head protector gone, wearing a black shirt and some standard nin pants.

Hashirama took a moment to assess the appearance of his brother, blinking rapidly, surprise written all over his face before zeroing on the abundance of food. "How did you get—"

"We've been dead for a while, brother. Nobody's about to recognize us, even if our heads _are_ on the mountain."

"But we already sent Namikaze to get ramen…" Hashirama mumbled as his brother began setting bags on the table.

Tobirama looked up sharply. "You what."

"Ehehe, well, you _see_…he has the best chance o—"

"You had _one job, _Hashirama."

* * *

.

.

.

**notes**: boob five, les. boob five.

I LOVE YOU ALL. kisses. **review?**

**.**

**post notes: **Seriouslyme has just graciously pointed out to me that, duh, their eyes are _not_ normal and people would notice that. so I've given minato some shino-like sunglasses because I like shino...and I have something up my sleeve for tobirama's eyes. ;)


	4. iv

**The Dream Team  
**We're back, bitches.

.

.

.

* * *

"So we're going to henge—"

"But we're in a village of _ninja._ Any third rate idiot can see through—"

"We're not looking to convince ni—"

"Yeah, yeah, I know, _civilians._ And yes, everyone is out fighting. _But _there are still those whiny little geni—"

"As long as you don't attract attent—"

"I'm _Hashirama Senju. _Of course I attract attention; I'm the god of sh—"

"You're _dead._"

"HOW_ RUDE."_

"How about this," Sarutobi interjected between the bickering siblings. "Hashirama can play dress up and we can henge," he said, rubbing his temples. "And then we will go rescue Minato."

There was a brief moment of silence.

And then, barely audible and muttered under Sarutobi's breath as he performed the hand symbols, "How in the world I was taught by those two never ceases to amaze me."

* * *

.

.

.

**notes**: quickfic! playing with dialogue. still for my little chocolate chip muffin, les.

PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT: THIS IS A _DRABBLE SERIES_. THE CHAPTERS ARE MEANT TO BE SHORT. this will the last time I say that.

ahem. in other news, I love you. happy belated valentine's. **review?**


	5. v

**The Dream Team  
**We're back, bitches.

.

.

.

* * *

Tobirama looked like he was about to retch. Not because of that hideous scent of rotting food emanating from the trashcan under the sink but because of the neon orange gear that his brother was sporting.

"I look fabulous," Hashirama stated matter-of-factly, preening in a mirror, smoothing down the wrinkles in his pants.

"It looks like the sun threw up, and you were the result."

Hashirama grinned, eyes crinkling. "Thank you."

"…go change. You look stupid," Tobirama bit out, looking violated.

"What? If anything, you need to redo your henge. You don't look feminine enough."

"I have _already explained this—_I am less likely to be questioned if I look suspicious. I won't get caught. Meanwhile, the police will confiscate you for public indecen—"

"I'm _hot._" Sarutobi interrupted, stepping out from the bathroom. A sleazy grin plastered on his (her?) face, he pulled at the neck of his shirt, leering at the newly formed breasts. "Oh, yeah. Definitely hot."

Hashirama nodded appreciatively. "See, Hiruzen here looks like a luscious babe. You look like a gangly prepubescent child."

Tobirama rolled his eyes heavenward, muttering curses. "We're all going to go to jail."

Hashirama cackled. "If we do go to jail, at least I'll look sexy."

* * *

.

.

.

**notes**: so the last few, if you didn't catch on, are related with mild time gaps in the middle. so they're still on their rescue minato mission, and minato's status is unknown. eventually, this little...sub story will tie off and I'll move on to other escapades.

always for les. this time, for you. wink wink flirt flirt.** review?**


	6. vi

**The Dream Team  
**We're back, bitches.

.

.

.

* * *

"Now all we need to do is make a quick stop at the bathhouse and then we can run along and search for our dear Minato," Sarutobi remarked, voice toned with the impression that years of wisdom were backing up this particular conclusion.

Tobirama stared him down, a deadpan look on his now feminine face as they walked through town. "Excuse me?"

"You see," he began, holding a finger up, "it is good for the mental processes—"

Hashirama sighed, loping an orange-clad arm around the shoulders of his ex-student. "Oh, Hiruzen, you've learned so well."

"…the fuck." Tobirama bit out. "Are you _serious? _There's a _relatively_ _recently dead Hokage walking around, and you want to peep on women?" _

"Now, now, Brother, it's okay to admit that you like the ladies, too—"

Tobirama looked as though he wanted to rip his hair out. "_There is a time and place_, _dumbass." _

Hashirama frowned. "Name calling isn't ni—"

"Go die."

"I don't wish to break this to you, young whippersnapper, but I already have."

"Oh, hey!" Sarutobi cried out, looking as though great fortune had been bestowed upon him by the heavens. "The bathhouse! We're already here. Might as well take a look," he said, skipping giddily towards the fence and bending over, pressing his face up against the wood, dainty fingers stretched out on either side of him.

And then, a voice—

"…_grandfather?!" _

* * *

.

.

.

**notes**: to clarify, in case you didn't catch on, they are still disguised as two women and a brightly clothed man.

out of curiosity, how do you guys feel the more recent chapters compare to the beginning few? because review count has dropped and I'm wondering if you guys don't like it as much as you did initially or...?

STILL FOR MY FAIRY PRINCESS, LES.** review?**


	7. vii

**The Dream Team  
**We're back, bitches.

.

.

.

* * *

Minato ambled along the edge of the graveyard, bowls upon bowls of takeout ramen in his arms.

If he were completely honest with himself, he knew what he was looking for. He'd never voice it aloud, but he'd known he wanted to visit here since they first set foot back into life.

And yet he couldn't bring himself to read the names on the stones, to identify just the right one.

He and his wife had been dead for over fifteen years, and somehow…

He stopped, seeing the large stone flame rise in the distance, and he knew. That was where he was buried, with Kushina right next to him.

His feet would have stopped him, if he were a saner man. They would have stopped ten tombstones ago, and retraced themselves back the way they came from. But Minato had never likened himself to be particularly sane—no, never when it came to Kushina.

Setting the bowls gingerly on the grass, he stepped towards his deceased wife and kneeled at the base of their epitaph, the stone spiraling to the sky.

Their own will of fire.

His forehead touched the cool ground and his eyelids slipped shut. "I miss you," he managed to choke out, a strangled whisper against the blades of grass.

The sun shone brightly overhead, and Minato grieved for the wife he'd loved and lost with himself long ago. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, and Minato grieved for being alive.

* * *

.

.

.

**notes**: bit of an interlude from our regular programming, but still tied to the plot (see? he's got the ramen). dedicated to those that we've lost this week: from the boston marathon to the texas feritilizer plant to the MIT shooting. the world grieves with you.

and still for les, who figures out my writing when even I can't. love you to pieces.** review?**


	8. viii

**The Dream Team  
**We're back, bitches.

.

.

.

* * *

"Fucking—I _told_ you," Tobirama began to mutter, pacing back and forth in front of the fence just behind the women's bathhouse. "I told all of you."

Those were exactly the kind of words that Hashirama expected to hear from his sourpuss of a brother, but this small setback was not going to define this Minato Retrieval Mission! _No!_ He was _sure_ they would not be defeated by this small recognition by a squirrely, gangly young boy.

Perhaps they could convince him that he had been roofied. Hashirama recalled having such an experience in his younger days when he had first met Mito and had been under the impression that she was a circus clow—

"K...onohamaru…?"

Tobirama growled a low oath and then walked away from the group all together, stalking off in the direction of the bar across the street. Hashirama's eyes went wide. Oh, no, no, no, this was not how this was supposed to pan out.

Young Sarutobi here was supposed to tell Younger Sarutobi that he was _high_. This was _not_ part of the plan—

The young boy's eyes started to water. "But how—"

And that idiot, loose-lipped protégé of his left nothing a secret. "Resurrection—there was a jutsu and—but how did you know…?"

"How could I not?! You look just like Biwako-baa-chan, but you _feel_ like—"

"Young man," Hashirama interrupted, winding an arm around Konohamaru's shoulders. "Hasn't anyone told you that weed is the gateway drug?"

Behind him, Sarutobi sputtered and shoved him out of the way, highly offended. "Are you suggesting that my grandson is a drug addict?!"

Hashirama shrugged. "I'm merely suggesting that your precious grandson might be high because I'm fairly certain that you're _dead_."

"HE IS NOT A DRUG—"

That was precisely when the ladies in the bathhouse just behind them began to notice the commotion just beyond the fence. Hashirama escaped in an instant and experienced peeper Hiruzen followed suit.

And that's how twelve year old Konohamaru was chased around the village by angry ladies who were convinced that not only was he peeping on them, but he was indulging in illegal substances.

* * *

.

.

.

**notes**: FINALLY. finally. so glad I finally got back to this lksdfjlds. for nicole. (and for giraffes and elephants because they're way better than cherry vanilla dr. pepper.)

sorry for sticking you guys with the sad chapter for so long. **review?**


	9. ix

**The Dream Team  
**We're back, bitches.

.

.

.

* * *

Tobirama was fifty shades of done. It literally wasn't even funny anymore—one would think that after being dead for a century or so coming back to life would be some kind of reprieve from the nothingness.

But no. It was the fucking worst, and he suspected it was because all those years of pent up _stupidity_ were taking their sweet time to spew out of his brother like a cannon filled with vomit.

For god's sake he was _dressed as a woman. _

Not to mention that the entire village had gone to the dogs—like, what even was this "organic" produce bullshit?

So as he sat down at the nearly empty bar at two in the afternoon, having just witnessed a mob of angry women chase down some poor kid, he tipped back a bottle of sake into his awaiting mouth.

Maybe it was this, he thought wonderingly, savoring the strong taste of the drink. Maybe this was the point of coming back to life—not to cater to that long haired weakling Orochimaru or the unnecessarily demanding young Uchiha bastard, but _this_—to get completely wasted in the middle of the day.

And strangely enough, he was okay with tha—

"Heeey there, pretty lady," a drunk, sunglasses wearing man breathed against Tobirama's ear in a gross attempt at seduction, the scent of whiskey heavy on his breath. "M' name's Ebisu, and I don't believe we've met before, but may I just say that you have fine, _fine_ ass…"

The hand against his back slid down with the intention of copping a feel, and even gently tipsy, Tobirama's fingers wrapped like a vice around this "Ebisu's" throat, squeezing him into unconsciousness before tossing him aside like rag doll.

Chugging the rest of the bottle of sake and slamming the container down, he got up, tossed some coins down, and mumbling obscenities, stalked out of the bar.

But it was when, stepping into the mid-afternoon sunlight, a male passerby wolf whistled that Tobirama knew that fifty was far too small a number. He was precisely fifty thousand shades of done, and they'd all be punched into Hashirama's face when he got a hold of him.

* * *

.

.

.

**notes**: for gin, her broships, and her organic-loving, AP class taking gajeel that warms my heart. and for les because tobirama is better than her. **review?**


End file.
